Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The Goblet of LifeFilled is Life’s goblet to the brim;And though my eyes with tears are dim,I see its sparkling bubbles swim,And chant a melancholy hymn With solemn voice and slow. No purple flowers,–no garlands green,Conceal the goblet’s shade or sheen,Nor maddening draughts of Hippocrene,Like gleams of sunshine, flash between Thick leaves of mistletoe. This…